Catoctin clarion. [volume] (Mechanicstown, Md.) 1871-1940, 1887-06-16
No. I.

pair Of strong arms.
"Darling Mary, do not turn so
white y pleaded her lover. II AM not
{" ghost, nor phantom am Hugh
Derby's self, alive and well, come back
to lay my heart at your feet. and claim
the love that is so precious to me. It
isn't so impossible as you think. I'm
not dead, and | never have been dead.
But the poor fellow who had the bed
next to mine in the Accident Ward OF
the st. Monica's Hospital. died the
light they brought him in, and thecard
at our ed-heads got accilentIy chang.
ed. 1 was No.4, and when my card
was affixed to another bed, | lost my
identity at once. We are not Smith or
Brown in a hospital, Mary--we are on
ly Six or Four, as the case may be. So
when Maurice Blenhein died in the bed
labelled II, they turned to their books
and made out burial certificate for
Hugh Derby. one Of the victims Of the
railroad accident. And before | recov-
cred from the brain fever that follow
ed on the blow received from the end
of the car seat when l fell they had
me duly buried with all the honors Of
book and bill. I couldn't make them.
believe that l was Hugh Derby, and not
Maurice Blcnheim, and so left off try
ng. And after all, what did it matter
much? What charm had life left
me p
But, Hugh loved you"
"But, Mary I lld not know 1t !; and
80 dawdled away the sunshiny hours
on those sweet Floridian shores, think
ing how strange it felt to be wandering
alone, like disembodied spirit, with
out any identity at all, and half dlspos-
ed to wonder for what special Use God
had given Inc back my life, when all Of
q sudden the strong desire came up
on me to travel northward to Kings
Cross--to look upon my own grave
Mary, | believe to heaven it was your
love attracting me like an invisible
magnet. Sweetheart, you have brought
me back to you and now l never shall
go away without yoq.''
IL don't want you to u" whispered
Mary Fo)yott, her soft cheeks suffused
with bIushes, her eyes shining like wet
stars. '.Oh, Hugh, | am SO very, very
happy. l haven't deserved this, Hugh
but I will never be silly or capricious
again.
MARY Mary!' screamed the shrill
falsetto voice of Mrs. Yorke. "Why,
what has become of the child? She's.
here, and there and nowhere. like ii
will'o.thc wlsp. Mary! is that you
coming up the lane? And Classy sick
and old Betsy gone home to her sis-
ter's funeral should like to-
know what is to become Of Number
Nineteens dinner, with the chickens
scorching. and the bread sauce to be-
made and the cherry tartlets not looked
at7 You are getting to careless for any
thing, and--Oh, good gracious me sir"
with prodi sious start. '.l'm sure beg
II thousand 'pardons, but-'
"Am L always to be known by Il num-
Der, like u lottery ticket ?" said Hugh
Derby, laughing. ''Never mind the
dinner, Mrs. Yorke, Miss Folycott could
tell You that ! lam an old friend of hers"
And when Mrs. Yorke heard the sto.
ry she was quito willing to concede
that truth was stranger than fiction
and for IN instant it seemed almost pos
sihle that Abe the tin-peddler, might
yet appear on this mundane sphere.
Zone thing wouldn't be more impos.
sbIe than t'other,' said she, as she
weighed out spices for a pudding.
While Hugh and Mary, walking by
the sea, watched the purple portals of
sunset close on the beautiful Decoration
Day which had brought such gift of
happiness 10 their hearts.